


draconic discourse

by microcosmo



Series: let me face, let me face, let me face my fears [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microcosmo/pseuds/microcosmo
Summary: In which fierce dragons find themselves at the mercy of their own familial ties, hopes, worries, and dreams.And maybe a little bit of gossip here and there, but all true dragon tamers know they can be real chatterboxes when prompted.
Series: let me face, let me face, let me face my fears [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858903
Comments: 72
Kudos: 88





	1. of bratty brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of previous works in this series, [from me to you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741941/chapters/57018487) and [lost in the waves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686388/chapters/62363659). This won't make much sense without all the preceding context.
> 
> I've been in something of a writing slump, so I figured the best way to work through it is to write up some stories centering on our favorite family's Pokémon squad! This is pretty obvious by now, but I love Poké-interactions so much, it seemed like a good idea to try my hand at actually focusing on them for once!  
> Just some casual, light-hearted fun 🤗  
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> for reference:
> 
> Charizard: Arthur  
> Latios: Eltanin  
> Mareep: Altais

To be small is to be powerless.

 _That_ is what Arthur used to believe.

Before, when he was young and foolish, more susceptible to the opinions and stances of others. Desperate for acceptance which was never really his to ask for. Never something he should have stooped so low as to _beg_ for. Even now he remembers. Remembers being much too tiny to ever be considered worth anyone’s time.

He’s well-versed in the frustration. In the futility behind actions and words without the might to back them up. Outcomes were rarely pleasant, always resulting in injuries far too gruesome to describe and a pride wounded beyond recognition. A determination often snuffed out by those unwilling to bend, unwilling to recognize potential that is not their own.

He understands the shame. The anger. The resentment.

The hatred.

The fear.

It is because he understands those feelings, understands where they are birthed and where they flourish, that he’s been able to cast aside any foolish preconceptions about the nature of strength and where it is or is not allowed to bloom.

It is because he understands, that he can recognize the different forms it takes, whether it rests within his own kind or within the humans that walk alongside he and his brethren.

And it is because he understands, that he cannot help but be amused by his young charge’s desperation to grasp it within his own claws.

“You’re being incredibly unfair, brother!” Eltanin cries. He's strewn across the floor, his wings flattened on either side, ear tips drooping in a clear display of gloom and doom. “I cannot _believe_ you. I cannot believe you would disrespect a-and…and _belittle_ me in such a horrible way! How cruel! How unkind! How _dismal_.”

“Can’t recall ever doing anything like that.” Arthur replies, doing his best to maintain a serious facade. Eltanin is young and very impressionable. For all his attempts to maintain a poised and elegant demeanor, especially in front of the humans, he is still a hatchling, naive and bratty in all the ways Arthur cannot help but be fond of. “Refresh my memory, will ya?”

“How convenient that you should not recall your own treacherous deeds.” Eltanin huffs, his glare no more threatening than the doe-eyed stare of his companion Altais, who’s much too busy poking at an electrical outlet to pay his melodrama any mind. “Continue with your show of feigned ignorance and I shall tell my mother, who will set you straight in an instant.”

“Terrifyin'.” Not really, given his ‘mother’ is far too busy convincing Altais to stop gnawing on all the power cords, lest she destroy the circuitry running through their den yet _again_.

And here they thought _Flo_ was destructive.

“Not enough? Then I shall tell your Lord Leon.”

Arthur yawns. Not much of a threat at all.

“No? Very well. In that case, I shall inform Lord Raihan and our dearest Luludon.” Eltanin hisses. "And they will _both_ have your hide.”

Oh.

“…sorry. What are you upset about again?”

“ _Brother_.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right. _Relax_ , little one.” Arthur sighs, throwing a wing over Eltanin. He squirms a bit, throws him a nasty look before, ultimately, huddling into his side. Always such a _hatchling_ , despite the thick sheen of pomp he oh so enjoys parading around. It’s only natural, Arthur supposes. All that coddling is bound to nurture something of an ego. “S'this about what we discussed earlier?”

“What else would it be about?”

“Not sure.” Arthur replies dryly. “You’ve been findin' all sorts of reasons to get short with me lately.”

“Because you never give me the answers I want!”

“And why do you suppose that is?”

“Because you’re _selfish_! You want to hog the limelight all to yourself without a care for what that means to me!”

“And what _does_ it mean to you?”

“That I remain in the shadows and bring nothing to our family name!” Eltanin laments. “You— _all of you_ —seem to have a place here. What am I but excess? A mere ornament to hang upon the stage. I’m an _extra_ , destined to remain at the fringes, never to be seen or heard. Is that not a fate worse than an ill-decided stroll into the Forest of Fae? Tell me brother, what importance do I hold if not to perform beside you? What _is_ my purpose?”

“Your ‘ _purpose_ ' is to do what you want, not to bring anything to _anyone_.” Arthur grunts, nipping at his twitching ear to silence him. “Enough of that excess-ornament nonsense. As far as being heard goes, I wouldn’t be so worried. You speak enough for _all_ of us.”

“Because I possess a _heavenly_ trill. Mother says I’m a natural born soprano…whatever that means.”

“ _Exactly_. I don’t get what you’re taking issue with. Do you _want_ to battle? Because you’re always goin' on about how ' _distasteful_ ' it is.”

“Because that is the _truth_.” Eltanin replies instantly, the notes of confidence in his tone melting into something far more reserved and bashful. “It’s just…I see how powerful you are. You’re so _revered_ and I…I’m not much by comparison.”

“You are _more_ than enough. You’ve got your own talents.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that fact.” Eltanin sniffs. His arrogance is second to none, Arthur thinks with no scarcity of exasperation. How he can fluctuate between excessively confident and terribly insecure is an ever-fascinating mystery. “There is no end to my mother’s praises. He insists I need not follow anyone’s path but my own. However, I fear I’m not enough for him, _or_ even Altais. I am supposed to be her role model and yet, she’s grown leaps and bounds beyond me, already _surpassing_ me, despite being younger. It makes me feel… _retched_. Absolutely _retched_.”

Arthur is tempted to bring up that Altais’s excessive growth is due in part to her tendencies for electrocution via sockets and outlets and _lightning storms_ of all things, but Eltanin’s unsure expression stops him from making such a careless comment. It’s clear this is something he’s been mulling over for a while, and despite his insistence that he is an adult and capable of caring for himself—

He is Arthur’s _hatchling_. He _always_ will be.

And Arthur will do _anything_ to see that his hatchling _not_ view himself the same way he once did.

Pathetically weak and useless.

Unworthy.

 _Unfit_.

“Little one, there's no need to become anyone but yourself.” Arthur chides him gently. “You're perfectly fine as you are.”

“But don’t you find me _lacking_?” Eltanin inquires, scarlet eyes growing cloudy. He’s on the verge of tears. “Wouldn’t you prefer a brother to fight alongside you? To make you _proud_?”

“Is it possible to be prouder than I already am of you?”

“You jest!”

“I do _not_.” Arthur nuzzles him affectionately, hoping to reassure him of his worth. “Couldn't be prouder. I mean, have you seen yourself in the sky? Flo, Galahad and I can hardly keep up. And if we're talkin' elegance, you’ve given lovely Mordred _plenty_ of competition.” He rolls his eyes at that. “She’s a hard one to beat, y’know.”

“Yes, my dearest sister is, in fact, very difficult to outshine.” Eltanin agrees. “And what of my trill? Is it better than Flo’s? Is it better than the Desert Spirit’s?”

“Are you fishin' for praise?”

“Why, _of course_! What else would I be doing?” Eltanin titters with that familiar tinge of mischief, his once downtrodden mood springing up into its usual fare of pompous cheer. “Praise me, brother! _Praise me_!”

“No, I think that’s enough of that.” Arthur blows a stream of smoke into his face, urging him into a coughing fit. “Anything else you’d like to discuss?”

“ _Y-Yes_.” Eltanin rasps, glaring at him, before shyly glancing away. “P-Perhaps— _occasionally_ mind you _occasionally—_ engaging in uncouth mannerisms befitting only the lowliest of lifeforms wouldn’t be such a reprehensible waste of time. A-As long as it is at your side, I mean.”

“Am I not meant to take offense towards that statement?”

“Certainly not. The honor of fighting at my side isn’t one to be granted so freely, brother. You should be flattered.”

“And _you_ should be a _little_ _more_ forthcoming with your requests, _brat_.” Arthur bites at his snout, earning indignant whines from his insolent junior. “Do you wanna battle with me or not?”

“ _Of course_ not. However, I am aware of how much of an emotional wreck you will be if I refuse, so I _must_ accept your offer out of a sense of duty, propriety, and generosity.” Eltanin responds, as if the entire conversation they _just_ _had_ wasn’t predicated upon the basis of _his_ clear desire to join Arthur on the battlefield in spite of his aversion to combat.

Such an odd little drake. Not that Arthur thinks any less fondly on him for it. After all, he _is_ well-versed in caring for little ones who bite and claw and cry out for help, only to deny ever having done so in the first place.

Speaking of—

“You two look very cozy.” The littlest of little ones, their precious _Hop_ , approaches them, cradling a pouty Altais against his chest. Her wool is crackling with energy. “Mind if we join you?”

 _Of course_ they don’t mind.

“Hm? What’s the matter, Ellie?” Hop inquires once they’re all cuddled up around Arthur, noticing Eltanin’s fidgeting.

Arthur eyes him pointedly.

Eltanin gestures his requests the best he can. Fortunately for them, Hop is quite adept at interpreting their needs and wants despite the clear language barrier, and picks up on what he’s trying to get across relatively quickly.

“Battling?” He says, brows furrowing. “But I thought you weren’t interested in that anymore…with Arthur? You wanna give it a try with him? You think you can work well together?” A nod. “Oh…well…” He looks to Arthur. “Is that something you’re interested in, too?” Another nod. “Huh. I mean, I guess we can try it out? We’ll have to ask Leon first, but if that’s what you two wanna do, I don’t mind giving it a shot.” He brightens slightly. “Maybe this’ll be a good opportunity to help you learn some new moves. You know, maybe stuff like Thunder or Surf to pair with Rain Dance or Solar Beam to go with Sunny Day. We can even try Mystical Fire! Mr. Kabu says it’s a good move to have up your sleeve, and I think it can pair well with your screens. What do you think?”

“ _Delightful_!” Eltanin trills, unbeknownst to Hop, who merely smiles at his visible excitement. “Is my mother not a brilliant soul? Truly, the Earth is undeserving of such a testament to humanity’s continued prosperity!”

“Mama’s boy.” Altais chirps without missing a beat. A term she’s picked up from the telly box no doubt. Arthur feels like he’s heard it before.

Eltanin scowls.

“And perhaps if you were _more_ of a mama’s girl, you would be the _favorite_.”

“What?” She tilts her head, genuinely confused. “I am _,_ though?”

Eltanin gapes, completely and utterly scandalized.

“ _Excuse me_ —“

“What’s wrong, Ellie? Why are you upset?” Hop questions, confused over the sudden hostility reverberating from his Latios, cyan wisps of energy erupting from him as Altais rolls onto her side in response, disinterested, burying her face into his sweater. He glances at Arthur, desperate for an explanation. “W-What happened?”

Arthur sighs and merely grunts.

 _Bratty little ones_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what fools we were to think hop's precious latios was a cinnamon roll. the brattiest of brats is what he is.  
> for shame.  
> (for real though the thought of hop raising this well-mannered, but incredibly arrogant and conceited legendary brings me so much joy no regrets absolutely none)


	2. save the date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference
> 
> Mordred: Haxorus  
> Arthur: Charizard  
> Galahad: Dragapult  
> Dee: Goodra  
> Flo: Flygon  
> Gwin: Dreepy #1  
> Gwen: Dreepy #2

“What’s gotcha on your toes, princess? You’ve been lookin’ tense since you woke up.”

It’s a foolish question to ask, one Mordred would normally scoff and turn her snout at, lacking any of the patience required to answer it. She’s a _very_ busy lady after all, with minimal time to waste on anything she deems unnecessary and tedious. 

However, given her fondness for the question _asker_ , she settles for a snarl and whips her tail back and forth, willing him to get a handle on the situation without her expressly having to baby him over the details.

It takes a moment or two, but eventually the Great Big Joy Bringer snaps his fingers, understanding finally dawning on him. To be expected. Her Leon chose wisely when selecting his mate, his astuteness second to none.

“That’s _right_. You and Lee have got a date planned.” Raihan grins, his fangs glinting in the light. It’s in these moments Mordred is reminded he is one of them, despite his humanoid form. His spirit roars proudly as confirmation. “Haven’t seen him up, so he’s probably still in bed. Why not drop in? Can’t have him sleeping in on ya.”

It’s a good idea, one she thanks Raihan for with a bunt to the back before plodding off to find their pack leader and rouse him from slumber.

On the way, she bumps into Dee, who distracts her briefly with her enchanting beauty and excited chatter over the game of ball she is planning for later in the afternoon, open to any willing participants.

“When you and Leo-Leo come back, you should both join!” She suggests, eyes sparkling. “It’s gonna be so much _fun_! You can even show off all your new nice things at the same time! It’s gonna be so awesome and fun and cool and _amazing_!” She’s practically singing, incapable of containing her glee. “I can’t wait!”

“Me neither.” Mordred answers honestly, her own tail wagging. Dee’s ideas are the _best_. Not always well-executed, but that hardly matters when everyone involved is having too grand a time to notice. “I’ll get you something while I’m gone. Is there anything you want?”

“A hat!” Dee chirps. “I want one with a green ribbon. You should get one with a purple ribbon so when we play ball and battle and go on walks and eat and sleep and do _everything_ together we can match and look really really really super super super duper-ultra-mega a million- _bajillion_ times cute! Do you like my idea? I like my idea!”

“I love your idea!”

“Yay!”

Dee rambles on a little more about changing the rules to be more exciting this time around until she gets distracted by Flo zipping around outside with Gwin and Gwen, gifting Mordred a nuzzle and cheerful farewell before wandering after them, likely hoping to recruit the trio into all the fun.

Her heart light, the pleasant floating sensation her beloved Goodra always bestows upon her for every moment they share together sinking into her scales, Mordred turns her attention back to the task at hand, shoving her precious Leon's cavern door open to _finally_ drag him out of his nest and into the sun where he should have _already_ been awaiting her.

It isn’t anything that can be helped. Leon is not perfect. Mordred understands this very well. Still, she’s willing to ignore his shortcomings because her Leon is by far the closest to perfection any humanoid can remotely come close to achieving. It’s a heavy burden to carry and the likeliest of reasons for his oversleeping. Those tiny human shoulders can only bear so much.

She trots towards the messy cot. Even in the darkness, she can make out his messy mop of hair, locks and strands strewn everywhere.

Deciding it’ll likely take more than a few whispered growls of his name to draw him from slumber, a mischievous thought wiggles its way into Mordred’s mind. Without wasting another moment, she tugs the covers up and dives beneath them, every intention of waking her tamer, surprising him, urging him into a soft fit of laughter before he concedes to her demands for affection and cuddles, unable to resist her charms.

That doesn’t happen.

Rather than being met with Leon’s angelic face, she is handed the distinct displeasure of bumping into her most detested of rivals. Her greatest enemy and most reviled of competition. A being so _virulent_ she can hardly stomach uttering his name.

“Yo.” Arthur greets her, looking so damn comfortable beside _her_ Leon. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Get your disgusting maw out of my fucking face.” Mordred snarls, tensing when Leon stirs slightly. He doesn’t wake, which is a great relief. The last thing she wants is for him to open his eyes to a blood-bath as she strangles the ill-bred beast he calls his partner.

“A bit too early to be this mad at me, innit?”

“It’s never too early to want to claw your fucking _eyes_ _out_.”

“Nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I _was_ in a very good mood.” Now _ruined_ , thanks to _this_ fuck. “Why are you even here? Leon doesn’t like you on the nest because you’re going to set it on fire. That’s how _incompetent_ you are.”

“Pretty sure he told us _nobody’s_ allowed here.” Arthur responds dryly. “And yet, here we _both_ are.”

“We have a _date._ ” A _very_ important one. One Mordred’s been impatiently looking forward to for over a month because that new store in that one city is finally open and she wants to have a good look at their seasonal stock _dammit_. “And you’re _always_ getting in the way. Why don’t you go, I dunno, bother Luludon. Not like you can get his attention otherwise.”

“I can get his attention plenty fine, _thanks_.”

Mordred observes him for a moment. Takes in the way his hackles are raised.

“…He’s too busy for you today, isn’t he?”

Arthur averts his gaze.

“Don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“You’re such a _loser_.”

“Says the one who’s always complainin’ whenever I win at _anything_.”

“ _That’s cause you_ —You know what? Never mind _.”_ Mordred cuts herself off, throwing a caustic glare his way. “Can you leave? Today’s Leo-Leo-Dreddy Day. _No Charizard allowed_.”

“And why do _you_ get to decide that?”

“Because it’s _my_ day!”

“I say you respect Mordred’s wishes and leave, Arthur. Find something else to do.”

Startling at the unexpected interjection, Mordred and Arthur look over just in time to see Galahad phase through Leon’s torso, casually joining the conversation as if he _isn’t_ jutting out his trainer’s side, the ectoplasmic nature of his intangible form giving off a mixture of neon violet and turquoise energy waves.

“The hell are you doing here?” Mordred asks, more shocked than annoyed. Galahad doesn’t inspire the same irritation in her as Arthur typically does, so it’s a welcome relief to have his calming presence soothe her nerves, not to mention have him take her side. “Why aren’t you with Leon’s hatchling?”

“He is deeply focused on his studies at the moment.” Galahad informs them. “I do not wish to disturb him.”

Mordred exchanges a look with Arthur, who snorts.

“You scared him again, didn’t you?” Arthur deduces, vaguely amused.

Galahad deflates, completely crestfallen.

“It was accidental.” He admits, idly plucking at the loose threads of Leon’s joggers, only for them to slip through his incorporeal claw tips. “I intended on pointing out an inconsistency with a series of his equations. A simple error, mind you. When his thoughts wander, the child is prone to such things. In any case, I was watching over him, hoping not to be a nuisance. It completely slipped my mind that I was not already visible. He screamed and his chair tipped over and—" Galahad shakes his head, unable to continue his woe-some tale. "Ashamed, I traveled here, hoping for our Leon to address my concerns and smooth things over. Alas, I found him resting, and sought to join him in an attempt to ease my worries.”

“Don’t beat yourself up ‘bout it. Hop will forgive you.” Arthur tells him. “He won’t break ties over somethin’ like that.”

“It is my hope he does not consider such a miserable course of action. I find it difficult to imagine sleeping anywhere that isn’t at his side.” Galahad blinks. “Of course, exempting our Leon’s, but as you mentioned, he does not approve of our presence in his nest.”

“What a dumb rule.” Mordred complains. Her list of grievances in regards to it are innumerable. “We should be able to do whatever we want. Leon’s hatchling lets us stay in _his_ nest and they don’t ever say a thing about it.”

“That’s ‘cause his eyes.” Arthur replies. “They’re too powerful. I’ve heard Leon and Raihan sayin’ that. Must be true.”

“Then perhaps we must call upon an alliance of sorts.” Galahad suggests. “We have the child sympathize with our plight, align him to our cause, prop him up as our figurehead, and ratify the unjust system. _He_ is their weakness. Therefore, _he_ holds the power. We must play the game in accordance to these truths.”

“You callin’ for revolution?”

“I believe so. There is no other way.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mordred says grimly. To think, she walked in to wake Leon for their date. Now, _revolution_. Tis the nature of a drake’s duty, she reckons. “Who are we taking down first?”

Unfortunately, they aren’t allowed to further along any strategic planning, because it’s then that Leon rouses from sleep, eyes fluttering open, a comically exaggerated yawn following.

He blinks at the large mounds taking up space below the blanket, lifting it to find the three of them staring up at him, not even _remotely_ succeeding at hiding themselves. Also, Galahad happens to be _sticking out of his hip_ , so there’s that too.

Not that it really matters in the end. Leon doesn’t scold nor chide nor express any inkling of annoyance in response to their presence. As bright as the sun, a pearly white toothy grin blooms across his face, his eyes drooping from the drowsiness still clinging to his consciousness.

“G’mornin’ kiddos.” He slurs, patting Galahad’s head, not at all phased by his aforementioned incorporeal form…well, _phasing_ right though him. “Gang’s all here, huh? N’that case—“ He sits up and holds out his arms and he _laughs_ and it’s so _musical_ , just as Mordred expected from him. Just as she _dreamed_. “How about a group hug?”

It turns out to be more of a group tackle, but Leon is _strong_ and capable of taking the brunt of the blow without complaint, delighted by their enthusiasm.

“I know I don’t have to remind you three this is against the rules, so let’s just keep this a secret between all of us, ‘kay?” Leon winks at them. “Don’t tell Rai, ‘cause he’ll say I’m a softie, and even though I know that’s true, he’ll be smug about it. Might give him an edge in battle and we can’t have that.”

Mordred nods. Absolutely _not_. She’s not planning on losing against the Joy Bringer’s team any time soon.

“Now, we’ve got plans to get to don’t we?” Leon looks to Mordred, his smile soft as he caresses her beak. “Ready to shop ‘till you drop, Dreddy?”

Mordred croons. Of course she is! This is what she’s been waiting for! All day!

“Great!” Leon grins, glancing over at Arthur and Galahad apologetically. “Sorry guys. I promised Dreddy today would be for us. I'm sure you'll have fun here, though!”

Mordred watches at they both wilt, disappointed at the mere thought of being left at home. Left _behind_. Without plans, they’ll idle about, _restless_ , waiting for Leon to return. For him to amuse and reassure and keep them company.

Mordred understands, for she is well-versed in the agony that is waiting around for Leon to come back from whatever trip or errand or run he's on so she may request his attention.

She really _doesn’t_ like to share, especially on Leo-Leo-Dreddy Days, but…

“You two are _so_ fucking _annoying_.” Mordred groans, sighing at the way they perk up.

Taking one for the team, she points at Arthur and Galahad, then to Leon and herself.

He catches on quick enough.

“You want them to tag along?” He inquires, confused. “But I thought today was for us?”

It _should_ be, but the unfortunate fact of the matter is, Mordred isn’t the only member of this motley den of dragons. Where she goes, the others must follow.

And, if she’s being honest, there really isn’t anything wrong with Leo-Leo-Dreddy-Gala-Artie Days.

Every _once_ in a while, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they say, there’s no ‘I’ in team.  
> Coincidentally, neither is there in ‘Mordred’, which I think is sorta poetic for a gal who likes to demand a lot from others, but can always be relied upon to make the selfless decision.  
> Every _once_ in a while, I mean.


	3. day in the life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference:
> 
> Lulu: Duraludon  
> Dee: Goodra  
> Flo: Flygon

“Article two-forty one, section w, subsection h, amendment one dash one eight nine. Article two-forty one, section w, subsection h, amendment one dash one eight nine. Article two-forty one, section w, subsection h, amendment one dash one eight nine…”

“He’s been mumbling that for a while now.” Dee notes, taking another biscuit from the plate sitting before them. Dropped off by one of the many kindly clerks still loitering around the premises this late into the night. “Do you think they might have actually broken him this time?”

“Naw, I bet he’s just putting all the pieces together.” Flo responds, yawning from where he’s strewn across the office sofa. “Tryin’ to see where they fit. Right, Luludon?”

“That’s right.” Lulu replies, glancing over at the desk where Raihan is hunched over, his robes slung over the back of his chair. His tie is loosened, collar unbuttoned, hair in disarray and headband hanging low around his neck. “He’s thinking. We should let him.”

“But it’s _late_.” Dee insists. “He’s tired. Shouldn’t we take him home? Let him work on this tomorrow?”

“He’ll just stay up the whole night anyway, Dee-Dee.” Flo garbles over another biscuit. “If he keeps on track here, he’ll get it done faster, and then we can go home. Right, Luludon?”

“Right again.” Lulu confirms, a soft sigh escaping him. While he doesn’t mind staying up and watching Raihan pour over page after page and file after file of legal writing, he can’t say it doesn’t worry him, because Raihan has _always_ been such a hard-worker, unwilling to leave matters unattended if they are in his power to take care of. Always the first to arrive and last to leave, the town hall's chamber walls already familiar with the echo of his footsteps as he unlocks his office door for the day, ready to confer upon his people the prosperity and peace they are deserving of.

Lulu knows this, as do Flo and Dee, because they have been at his side every step of the way. From his acceptance into the committee, to his appointment as speaker and beyond. They have seen him toil over matters far too complicated for a young man his age to handle, seen him smile and placate individuals who speak badly of him to his face and behind his back, seen him run back and forth between colleagues, hoping to reach common ground, hoping for them to see the world the way he does. Cruel and merciless but _worth_ protecting. _Worth_ working for.

Worth braving the harshest of storms for a single sliver of beautiful sunlight.

Raihan is _good_ , so Raihan _works_ , even if that means pushing himself far beyond what is expected and required and _needed_ of him, simply because he _wants_ to. Because it’s his duty and to do anything less would be a betrayal of the role handed down to him by his ancestors and by the people who gaze upon the spires of Hammerlocke Castle with hope in their hearts and an unparalleled loyalty running through their veins.

It is because of this that, sometimes, on the occasion, Lulu will gaze upon his profile and see his grandfather. See that same tenacious spirit, that same tender smile, overflowing with a gentleness unheard of in vault keepers (or so he's been told), usually so obstinate and dire and unwilling to bend in their traditions.

But most of all, Lulu sees Raihan, the same boy who longs to be wanted. To be _needed_. Longs to be part of something much greater than himself. Much greater than his kingdom or region or the very Earth itself, stretching beyond the stars he gazes upon each and every night.

So Lulu stays, and so do Flo and Dee, because they understand Raihan, just as he understands them. No matter what, they will stay. Wherever Raihan leads, they will follow, because if it is Raihan’s duty to protect his people, it is their duty to protect him.

So perhaps Dee is right. She usually is about many things. Perhaps protecting Raihan means pulling him away from his desk and ushering him home before he can truly cause himself any harm.

The problem is, Lulu cannot bring himself to disturb him. Not when he’s concentrating, not when he seems to be on the cusp of pulling apart and piecing together yet another issue delivered onto his desk and demanded he solve within a fortnight.

In short, it’s been a very long day, with much discussion and argumentative back and forth. Raihan’s responsibility is a daunting one, placing him at the center and forefront of Hammerlocke’s ongoings, obligating him to find a consensus that appeases all sides while benefitting his people the most; not to mention his battling career and everything that entails.

“Let’s wait a little longer.” Lulu says. Just a little longer. “We’ll take him home after that.”

“Sounds good.” Dee agrees, visibly relieved. She adores Raihan, just as Lulu and Flo do. Ensuring his well-being will _always_ be her top priority. “Why don’t we play a game in the meantime?”

“Yeah!” Flo sits up, wings flapping in delight. The notion of something to do after listlessly waiting around for so long is clearly _very_ appealing to him. “We should! What kinda game? What kind?”

“Can w-we make it a quiet and, um, non-physical one?” Lulu quickly suggests. The last thing Raihan needs is them making a mess of his office. “Please?”

“Sure!” Dee hums, tugging at one of her horns thoughtfully. “Let’s see…how about Rumor Roundup? I’ve got a few interesting things to share.”

“Aww, c’mon Dee-Dee. You just wanna trash on that ice girl.” Flo complains, although his eyes light up with obvious interest. He doesn’t really have much room to talk, given _he_ is usually the one at the top of the rumor mill, not Dee. “Stop asking after her so much.”

“If she stopped talking about us, I’d stop talking about _her_.” Dee declares, annoyed. Her rivalry with Circhester's famed Lapras is a well-known fact around the major and minor leagues. It doesn’t help that the Ice Queen herself tends to poke and prod at others for her own amusement, Dee having fallen into the trap of reacting right into her flipper many times before. “If she wants to talk nonsense, I’m gonna laugh all the way home about it. Serves her right.”

“M-Maybe we should take the high road.” Lulu weakly suggests. He would rather this not escalateinto anything more than a petty feud. “Ignore her?”

“Boo!” Flo sticks out his tongue. “That's no fun! Tear her to pieces, Dee-Dee!”

“…no, Luludon’s right.” Dee shakes her head. “It’s no good to stoop to her level. We’re better than that. Besides,” She perks right up. “There’s no better revenge than taking her down together our next match, right?”

“S’long as it’s not me.” Flo shudders. “Count me out.”

“Oh. Okay.” Dee pauses and blinks. Nervously, she glances over at Lulu. “Um…maybe you can…?”

“Of course.” As long as it’s on the battlefield, Lulu has no issue with defending their honor. Ice Queen or not, he’s not going to let a Blizzard or two get in the way of bringing Dee and Flo their much craved justice. “Leave it to m-me.”

“Yay!” Dee cheers, followed by Flo’s delighted whistles.

With their plans for revenge rightfully assured, the rest of the conversation takes its usual turn ofDee and Flo chattering up a storm about the various ongoings of their fellow colleagues and Lulu being yet again confused on how exactly they gather so much information about individuals halfway across the region in so little time.

Some matters are better left alone, he decides. Dee and Flo are mysterious beings, a fact he’s long since come to terms with.

“And this next nugget has to do with one of our own.” Dee hides her giggles behind her tendrils. “The other day when Leo-Leo went out for business, I heard from a little Rookidee that Arthur was getting _very_ friendly with a fan! A _Dragonair_ no less!”

“Sounds fake.” Flo deadpans, before snickering. “He _hates_ that kinda stuff. Wish I coulda seen his face.”

“Me too!” Dee titters. “I heard he had to turn them down _very_ gently, but I didn’t believe it at first! No way I did! I had to confirm with the source. So I asked him if any of it was true and he got _mad_. Like, really _really_ mad. He was all—“ Dee narrows her eyes, contorting her expression to resemble an irritated Charizard’s maw. Gruffly, she grumbles her next words, exaggerating his rough drawl. “‘ _Course it’s not._ _What’re you doing listenin’ to that rubbish for? And even if it was true, you know I…_ “ Dee trails off, confusing Lulu when she glances over at him. “…um, yeah! Haha! That was the gist of it! He told me it wasn’t true and that was that! Haha…ha…”

“That sounds like him.” Lulu replies, laughing slightly. Arthur has very little patience for anything remotely resembling petty gossip. While he’s never really known him to care much for when he’s the subject of rumors, it’s only natural to grow annoyed eventually. “M-Must be tiring being so p-popular. I don’t envy him at all.”

“Me neither. Sounds like a real pain.” Flo clicks his tongue. “Can you imagine if we were all super busy _and_ super popular? When would we play?”

“Oh, I don’t even want to _think_ about it!” Dee cries, covering her face. “Change the subject, _change the subject_!”

“U-Um, okay!” Lulu stammers, trying to think of something else to discuss. “W-Well, this isn’t really a rumor, but the other day, I was helping Hop with his flowers when we heard a strange noise. He decided to investigate and I thought it best if I was around in case anything happened. We ended up finding a Whimsicott—“

“ _Luludon_!” Flo cries, grabbing a throw pillow to hide his face behind. “You didn’t say this would be a horror story!”

“Change it back!” Dee squeaks. “Change it back!”

“B-But there’s a happy ending!” Lulu quickly rattles off the rest of his tale. “A-After we found her, she told us she’d been stuck in the turret, between this really narrow crook, for days.”

“ _Days_?” Dee grows pale. “She was there. Around us. For _days_?”

Flo collapses onto his side, looking a particularly off-shade of green. Certainly not his usually brand.

“I think I’m gonna be _sick_.”

“Sh-She’s not there anymore!” Goodness, he’s really made a mess of this, hasn’t he? Lulu wonders why he opened his big mouth in the first place. “Hop took her to the laboratory. She was injured and he wasn’t confident he could help her properly. It made him feel bad, but that’s because he’s inexperienced. I think if he really wants to learn and get better at it, he can. I tried to tell him that. I don’t know if he understood.” Lulu gaze shifts downward. “I hope he did.”

“No worries, Lulu.” Dee reassures him. “He definitely did! Maybe next time, a, um, well, maybe not a— _you know_ —but, maybe a Goomy? _Yeah_. A Goomy. Maybe he’ll find one and be able to help them. And then he’ll thank you, because you were the one who believed in him!”

“I hope it’s a Trapinch next time.” Flo mumbles. “That’d be nice.”

“L-Let’s hope nobody gets stuck again.” Just the thought is enough for a wave of anxiety to overcome Lulu. What if there are other Pokémon trapped in the turrets? What if they need _help_? They should do a thorough sweep one of these days, just in case. “That wouldn’t be—“

“Got it.”

The trio startle at the sudden and unexpected interjection. They glance over at the desk, where Raihan is frantically jotting something down. His eyes are shining bright, the befuddled haze having finally broken. Lulu feels his chest grow warm.

Raihan’s so _brilliant_ , and yet, he always seems so hesitant to acknowledge that.

Lulu wishes he could see himself the same way they do _._

“Fuckin’ hell.” Raihan groans, setting his pen down to stretch his arms above his head. He rubs at his eyes, blinking once, twice, three times, allowing them to refocus before settling upon them. A crooked grin stretches across his features, an apologetic tinge to it. “Hehe. Got carried away again, didn’t I? Give me five more minutes, wasn’t it?”

Lulu glances at Dee, who looks at Flo, who looks back at him.

Then, they all look to Raihan, and shrug.

Wasn’t any trouble at all.

* * *

“Freedom!” Flo cries into the night sky, zipping through the air, finally able to stretch his wings out properly. “Nobody can hold me back!”

“Is it gonna rain? I think it’s gonna rain!” Dee squeals, rushing down the town hall steps after him. “Yay!”

“Easy there, kiddos.” Raihan chuckles after them, robes slung over his shoulder. After struggling with the clasps, he hadn’t bothered putting them on again. “Let’s try to keep it down. Folks are sleeping.”

“ _Freedom_ …” Flo hisses, slowing down his wingbeats.

“ _Yay_ …” Dee whispers, tiptoeing after him.

Raihan laughs softly at their antics, a yawn escaping him.

“Sorry to keep you.” He says to Lulu as they leisurely follow behind the other two. “Somethin’ about that whole deal was irking me. Glad I figured it out but…didn’t mean to keep you this late. We should be in bed already.”

Lulu shakes his head. He knows. Raihan doesn’t need to apologize. He’s doing his best and that’s nothing short of admirable.

“I know, I know. You don’t think it’s that big a deal but…” He shrugs, folding his arms behind his head. “Dunno. Feels bad. Like I’m always relying on you to look after me. Supposed to be the other way around, innit?”

That’s not true at all. _Lulu_ is the one who’s supposed to look after him. If anything, _he_ should be apologizing for not being much help. If only his useless claws could be more opposable. If only he could speak. If only he could be _more_. Raihan deserves more.

Raihan deserves _everything_.

“…Hey now, don’t get all down on yourself.” Raihan interrupts his spiraling thoughts, a frown tugging at his lips. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? You’re _great_. You help me _tons_. If it weren’t for you, my life’d be falling apart at the seams, and that’s _not_ a good look for the Great Raihan. He needs his Lulu with him for _everything_. To function, to work, to play, to look good _and_ —“

He stops walking, facing Lulu, who also comes to a halt.

“To _be_ good.” Raihan says, his expression forthright and honest. “Remember what the old man used to say? If I’m the mighty dragon, the body and the soul, the wings and the claws, the flames and the storm, you, _all_ of you…“ He lays a hand on his chest. “…are right here. _Always_. What good’s a husk without a heart?”

 _no good at all_ , Lulu recalls sadly, the faint recollection of the late lord’s teachings echoing around his head. _That’s why you need to_ _look after him Lulu. For me, for him, and for you._

“So don’t worry.” Raihan says, slinging an arm around him, nuzzling the cool metal of his cheek. “As long as we’re together, everything’ll be okay.”

 _And the same to you_ , Lulu thinks, looking up at him.

Raihan blinks, his eyes twinkling—

And _smiles_.

“Yeah.” He murmurs. “We’ll be okay.”

They will.

And when they finally get home, it’s only reaffirmed by the mess of bodies strewn across the living area floor. Arms and hair and wings and tails jumbled among blankets and pillows, the volume on the telly box low, a droning buzz to lull the sleepiest of souls to sleep.

“Reckon they stayed up for us?” Raihan asks, although the answer is fairly obvious.Leon’s snores are soft, a faint trail of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Hop is nestled within the crook of his arm, tangled up in a thin throw blanket, a half-opened book jutting into his cheek.

Lulu can’t quite describe Raihan’s face properly whenever they stumble upon scenes like this, but it’s not really in his place to attempt to do so.

These moments are for Raihan. He is more than happy to let them be if they can do away with the perpetual cloudiness that has followed him since he was a child, constantly nipping at his heels, threatening to blot out the special light he alone possesses. For once, Raihan has something to truly call his own.

Lulu hopes he’s allowed to keep it, to cherish as he does _all_ his treasures.

“I’ll leave the rest of them to you.” Raihan whispers after he’s carried Hop off to bed and returned to lug Leon in for the night as well. “Sorry about that. Looks like I’m counting on you again.”

Lulu shakes his head.

There’s nothing to be sorry for. Lulu understands.

Lulu feels the same.

“G’night, sweetheart.” Raihan presses a kiss to his head before retiring to his room, Leon’s half-asleep, incoherent mumblings trailing off behind the door as it shuts.

Turning his attention to the rest of their lot, Lulu sighs.

“ _Noooo_.” Mordred complains, wrapping her tail around Lulu’s leg. “Don’t do this to me, _Luludonnnn_. I’m _warm_.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Lulu replies regretfully. “B-But you’ll be warmer with Dee.”

She really will be.

Dee picks Mordred up with ease and carries her to their fluffy bed. In the sunroom, because Mordred needs extra time every morning to warm up and come back to life.

“Family unit, delivered.” Flo reports, saluting Lulu after he’s successfully dropped Galahad and his babies off to Hop’s room. They’ll be grumpy if they wake up elsewhere. Lulu would rather that not be the case, because a grumpy Dragapult and Dreepys means a day of purposeful mischief, and Lulu’s heart can only take so much sneaking around in the shadows. “Permission to knock out, _sir_.”

“Y-Yes. Thank you, Flo.”

“No problem, Lulu-Lulu-Lulu- _Lulu_.” Flo snickers, nuzzles him, and flies off to his perch. Especially made for him. Something about needing an aerial view to feel safe. Lulu doesn’t get it, but then, he can’t fly can he?

“I wish to be carried.” Eltanin pouts, refusing to peel himself off the floor once it’s his turn to head to bed. “Carry me, please. I am but an innocent and weak hatchling, unable to fend for myself, in need of aid from his dearest Luludon. Won’t you carry me? Pretty please?”

“I-I would like to but…” Lulu glances at his accursedly clunky claws. He’d only hurt Eltanin. He doesn’t want to risk that. “I, um, I can’t really…”

“Stop bein’ a hassle.” Arthur scolds, slapping Eltanin with his wing. Eltanin squawks indignantly. “He’s damn _tired_. Go by yourself. And bring Altais up while you’re at it.”

“I wasn’t aware you were an active participant in this _two-way_ conversation.” Eltanin snaps, turning doe-eyes back at Lulu. “Won’t you carry me, dearest Luludon? And perhaps join Altais and I for the night? There is plenty of room in Mother’s quarters to go around.”

“I d-d-don’t think that’s true.” Lulu laughs. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“You could never be!”

“It’s r-really all right.” Lulu tries for another route. “Y-Y’know, Hop needs his rest, and he sleeps very well when you’re with him. I-I don’t want to risk getting in the way of that. He’s only just started sleeping through the night.” It’s not a lie. He really _doesn’t_ want to risk disturbing Hop or ruining the peaceful sleep he finally seems to have attained. “I-I’m actually counting on you to watch over him in my place. Can you do that for me?"

“Certainly!” Scarlet eyes sparkling at the thought of responsibility and duty, Eltanin levitates a sleeping Altais onto his back. She stirs not once. “Anything for you, dearest Luludon. You can _always_ count on me. You need only say the word. I will do all that I can for you.”

“I know you will. Y-You’re very responsible and reliable.”

“Hehe.” The ever-so haughty demeanor falls for a moment. Eltanin shyly looks away, ear-tips twitching bashfully, adorably pleased with the praise. “I try my best. I just wanna help out. I like helping out.”

“I appreciate it a-a lot.”

Eltanin twiddles his claws, giggling to himself.

“ _Brat_.” Arthur grumbles, grunting when Eltanin smacks him for it.

With that, he flies off with Altais, bidding Lulu a lovely night and Arthur a night ‘ _most nasty and reprehensible’_. Lulu makes a note to talk to him about that tomorrow. It isn’t a very nice way to behave.

Not that Arthur is any better.

“Y-You should be kinder to him.” Lulu says, waiting for Hop’s door to shut close to finally relax. “He looks up to you.”

“I know.” Arthur mutters, burying himself further into the mess of blankets all over the floor. Lulu starts gathering them up. “Leave ‘em. They’ll get ‘em tomorrow.”

“I-It’s fine. It’ll bother me if I don’t.” Not that he does too good a job at it, with his big, bulky _claws_. Unable to grip them properly, they slip through his grasp. “O-Or maybe not…”

“Go to sleep.”

“But—“

“ _Lu_.”

“…Right.” Lulu mumbles, flopping down with a sigh. He doesn’t have to travel very far, given this is where he always sleeps. There’s a nice fluffy carpet and plenty of bedding to go around. It’s where he feels most comfortable and where he prefers to be come morning, when everyone emerges from their respective caverns, staggering and dazed and sleepy, mumbling incoherent greetings.

It’s nice.

Lulu’s not really sure why Arthur sticks around, though.

Glancing at him from the corner of his eye and quickly looking away when he catches his gaze in return, Lulu figures he must have his own reasons. From what he’s observed over the years, Arthur greatly prefers sleeping outside. Lulu doesn’t really get it, but he thinks it has to do with his upbringing? Something about wilderness survival training…?

Whatever the case, he clearly recalls him refusing to stay in his pokéball, or even in Leon’s tent, around the time they were first introduced by their trainers on their respective journeys across Galar. Something about fresh air and how suffocating it is to be stuffed inside.

Lulu doesn’t know.

Not that he minds the company. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the extra warmth. Arthur is the equivalent of a crackling furnace when it comes to his body temperature. Much different to how chilly Lulu always seems to be.

He feels bad for thinking that though. It sounds like he’s just using him for his heat. Perhaps he should switch spots? Go somewhere else?

….wait, what if this is Arthur’s discreet way of telling him he _should_ go? Does he want this spot for himself? Maybe Lulu should go make himself comfortable in that one corner of the laundry room instead? It’s pretty warm there. Out of the way too.

…or maybe not. Tomorrow’s laundry day. He might scare Raihan or Hop when they walk in.

Maybe he could try the other corner?

Or maybe he should just go to the vault? There should be a blanket or two lying around there.

Or maybe—

“…why d’you look like you’re having a meltdown?”

“I-I think I a-am?”

Arthur releases a stream of smoke. The pointed effort to ensure it is directed away from Lulu’s general vicinity is much appreciated. It tends to stain his steel, which upsets Raihan, who gets Arthur in trouble for it, who gets sulky because he doesn’t like when Raihan is cross with him, which upsets Lulu because he doesn’t like when either of them are cross with each other and—

“You don’t have to think so hard.”

Lulu jolts when a blanket is tossed over him, obscuring his vision. It’s one of the softer ones, his favorite, tiny little Charmanders printed all over it.

“And you don’t gotta look at your claws so much.”

“I-I’m not—“

“ _Y’are_. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“B-But I can’t pick anything up…?”

“That’s what the rest of us are here for. You can’t do something, we can help out, so stop tryin' to carry the weight of the world, would ya?”

Lulu doesn’t respond. Raihan’s already told him that a million times. Why can’t it just get through his thick head? Why does he have to constantly go round and round and _round_?

“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry.”

“Don’t gotta apologize either.” Arthur huffs, although it doesn’t sound especially annoyed. More friendly. Lulu can tell the difference. He's known Arthur far too long _not_ to, and he really can't remember an instance where the former has been directed at him. Not once. “Just…try to relax, okay? Everything’s fine. Get some sleep, _Luludon_.”

“That’s not my name…” Lulu mumbles, pulling the blanket away from his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Why’s nobody else gettin' told off about it then?”

“Because they mean well.”

“And I don’t?”

“You’re teasing me.” Lulu pouts, getting himself comfortable upon the sea of cushions below him. “You always use it when you’re trying to tease me.”

“Untrue.”

“Liar.”

“Call me whatever you want.”

“ _Liar_.”

The rumble of Arthur's laughter is deep and rough.

They fall into silence after that, exhaustion finally catching up with Lulu. Tomorrow will be yet another busy day, full of work and mistakes and tedium and rowdiness. While the mere thought threatens to set his nerves into overdrive again, his anticipation triumphs over all else.

Where there is work, there are breaks. Where there are mistakes, there are helping hands. Where tedium lies there is fun and where rowdiness erupts, there are equal amounts of joy to be found.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to fear. Not with lively halls. Not when there are voices echoing all throughout the castle.

Not where there is a place to rest after the day’s efforts. Somewhere warm and comforting, where everyone is gathered and ready to greet the next morning together.

 _we’ll be okay_ , Lulu thinks, eyes fluttering shut.

While his metal remains cool to the touch—

His heart is _warm_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lulu: breathes  
> everyone and their mum: you're doing amazing sweetie 😍🥰😘 😭


	4. special surprise

“We're visiting someone special today. That’s why we have to look our best.”

Hop combs the rubberized brush through her wool. It’s supposed to make her look _very_ fluffy and _very_ bouncy. Hop is very particular about those two things. In his words, a nicely groomed appearance on the outside can make one feel better on the inside, and Hop is all about feeling better on the inside.

Personally, Altais doesn’t care much for how she looks. Ambivalence is the most she can muster over her appearance, as it's never been much of a priority. It makes Hop happy though, so if he wants to style her wool the same dedicated way he styles Eltanin’s feathery coat (at his own excessive request), it’s not really anything she feels the need to complain about, even if she can't help but think them a bit _too_ high maintenance.

Not that she minds. She likes Hop, who’s gentle and nice and cuddles her like nobody else ever has and doesn’t get _too_ upset when she chews up any stray batteries or wires lying around. She likes Eltanin too, even if he’s bossy and overbearing sometimes. That’s part of his charm, she thinks.

She gets it, even if others don’t.

So Altais deals with the brushing, because Hop likes everything prim and proper and Eltanin likes the sound of his own voice as he lectures her on the positives of having a beautiful coat and what a _visionary_ his mother is for teaching them to respect concepts like propriety and nobility.

“How blessed are we? To have a mother such as ours?” Eltanin inquires from beside her, tugging at the bedazzled black and gold bandana hanging from his neck. Elegant colors, he calls them. Altais thinks he’s just trying to impress Leon. “The fates smiled upon our meeting, dearest friend. To think, we were united in such a wondrous way despite being oceans apart only days prior. Is that not fortunate?”

“Pretty lucky.” Mostly coincidental. Not like Altais was hoping to get plucked off the ranch, but sometimes things happen and that’s fine by her. No need to overthink it. “Turned out well.”

“It did.” Eltanin eyes her thoughtfully. “Or perhaps not. Would you have preferred to stay where you were? Know I will not judge you for your answer, friend. You are entitled to your feelings, however negative they may be.”

“I don’t feel any particular way about it.”

“No? Surely there are those you must miss.”

“Not really.” While there were tons of folks on the ranch, Altais wasn’t especially close with any of them. Once she was labelled too troublesome to reign in, they collectively decided she wasn’t worth the extra effort. Fair enough. They were entitled to their opinions. Although, from her perspective, their topics of conversation were terribly dull, and she rather disliked their efforts to close her world off to the grassy fields behind a flimsy wooden fence. “I’m fine with how things turned out.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Eltanin’s ears twitch, his tell for any and _every_ emotion he’s feeling. Never a single spec of ambiguity with him. “…I see. My apologies.”

“Apologies? For what?”

“I am aware my circumstances may differ from those of others. I am fortunate to have been born into an environment where I have received plentiful support from those around me. It is insensitive to assume the same of others. I did not mean to impose my perspective upon you, friend.”

“I wasn’t offended or anything.” Altais can’t help but be charmed by Eltanin’s earnestness. A true noble in every sense of the word. A shame most don’t bother to look for it. “I mean, it’s not like I was bad off or anything. I just…wasn’t really close to anybody. You can’t miss something you never had, right?”

“I suppose so.” His ears droop. “To think you were left unappreciated…I cannot fathom such a thing. Your company is most wonderful.”

“Thanks. Yours is nice too.”

“Are you sure?” Eltanin looks away. “I know a few of our acquaintances aren’t very fond of me. I would not blame you if you thought the same…”

“I don’t.”

“….honestly?”

“Sure. If that _was_ true, you would know by now.”

“I would, wouldn’t I?” His titters. “You don’t hold your tongue, do you?”

“Guess not.” Altais thinks it’s more a matter of not finding it necessary to be vague or unclear with the meaning or intentions behind her words. Then again, there’s a reason nobody was particularly fond of her back at the ranch, isn’t there? “No worries. I’m glad I’m here, and I’m glad you’re here too. It was a little weird at first, being around all of you, but I like it just fine. Besides—“ She nuzzles his snout. “You’re gonna take me on plenty of adventures to make up for my ‘ _tedium inducing country life_ ’, aren’t you? I’m looking forward to that.”

“Naturally.” Eltanin reciprocates the affection. “With Mother at our side, we’ll certainly never grow bored.”

If that isn’t an understatement, Altais doesn’t know what is.

“Aren’t you two in a good mood.” Hop notes, smiling at their interaction. “I hate to interrupt, but would you like any ribbons or clips today, Allie?” He gestures at the neatly displayed accessories beside them, bright pastels on one side, darker, more muted tones on the other. “Does anything catch your eye?”

Altais takes a good look at the selection. She’s not really a fan of too much pop. That’s more Eltanin’s thing, with his bedazzled scarves, bandanas and neckerchiefs, hand-crafted by Leon of course, the only one capable of bringing his and Mordred’s boundary pushing fashion choices to reality. As nice as they are, if Altais is going to wear anything, she would rather it not make too much of a statement.

In the end, she points towards two simple ribbons, plain black, nothing especially noteworthy about them.

“Nice choice.” Hop tells her. He would say that whatever her decision. That’s just how he is. “Very elegant.”

“I agree.” Eltanin adds, which is nice to know, because he would _never_ say that unless he truly believes so. “They suit you.”

“Thanks.” Once Hop ties a ribbon on either one of her horns, she _does_ feel just the tiniest bit prettier. Is this how Mordred feels every second of every day? And how must it be when she’s actually _wearing_ something? A truly enlightening experience presumably, not to be understood by the average Pokémon. “I like them.”

“As you should.” Eltanin proclaims haughtily. “Mother is the one who purchased them for you.”

Before Altais can reply with an appropriate retort to the eternal mummy’s boy, Hop speaks up again.

“Before we get going, I actually have something to give you both.”

Surprised, Altais and Eltanin can only watch on as he pulls something from his neatly ironed trouser pockets.

“I, um, wanted to give you two a gift. I’m not very good at this kinda thing, not like Leon, but I tried my best, so I hope you like them…” Uncurling his fist, Hop presents two bracelets, both twined together with yellow, blue, and violet, their respective pattern orders inverted. “It's for—'cause we’re a proper team now and all. Not for battling or anything…except sometimes now I guess.” Hop casts an odd look at Eltanin, who huffs. “We’re our own kinda team. We’re…us. And that’s…that’s okay.”

Hop pulls up his sleeve, revealing a similar bracelet already curled snuggly around his wrist.

“Is this okay?” He asks, uncertain. “You don’t have to accept them…”

Altais blinks very slowly.

Honestly, she’s not quite sure what it is that goes through Hop’s head most of the time. He can be so smart sometimes and others he’s just _so_ —

So _silly_. In what world would Altais not accept such a kind gift from him? What chance would there ever be for her to reject him? None. Not _one_.

She glances at Eltanin, anticipating his reaction to be his usual brand of offended and completely taken aback, only to find his eyes pooling with tears.

“M- _Mother_!” He cries, wasting no time in crashing into Hop’s arms, his sobs drowning out their partner’s yelp. “I love it! I l-love it so much! Never have I seen something so beautiful. A work of art. Beauty in its purest essence! And for me? W-Words c-c-c-cannot describe—“

The rest of his eloquent praise is lost in his unhinged blubbering. He’ll flood the room with his tears at this rate.

“A-Are they that bad?” Hop questions, trying his best to comfort his big _baby_. “Enough to make you cry?”

Altais sighs, amazed by his ability to misinterpret all good things as bad. They really have to work on that. She’ll make it a priority from now on. Thinking bad thoughts all the time is a big _no-no_. None of that anymore.

“No, you _dummy_.” She bleats, although Hop certainly doesn’t get that by the way he tilts his head. Maybe one day he will. She hopes he isn’t offended at that time.

He’s _their_ dummy, after all.

After they get Eltanin to stop _bawling_ , Hop manages to get their bracelets on with little trouble.

“Hehe.” He tugs at his own. “I-I’ve actually always wanted to make friendship bracelets. When I went to Motostoke for school, the kids in my class were always handing them around. I never…well, I’m glad you like them.”

He grins, all toothy. It’s nice. It always is. Altais wonders if he realizes that.

“I feel _powerful_.” Eltanin croons, his tone reaching a pitch he has yet to achieve before. “I can _feel_ Mother’s affection. Don’t you, friend? Can you not feel his adoration? He _adores_ us!”

“Couldn’t tell.” Altais replies idly, waving her front leg around. The bracelet seems secure. Great. Can’t have it slipping off and getting lost. "Big surprise."

“We should be good now.” Hop announces, holding out their respective pokéballs. “Let’s get going. Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

No, they probably wouldn’t. If she’s as impatient as Hop can be, definitely not.

Altais doesn’t have much experience with mums, but if she’s Hop’s mum, surely, she must be something special.


	5. roundtable reunion

There are certain traditions the guardians of Hammerlocke Castle are expected to uphold.

Rituals passed on through the ages, handed down from generation to generation, all for the sake of supporting and ensuring the welfare and prosperity of the ruling noble charged with the care of Galar’s oldest and most precious of vaults.

However, as time ticks on, leaving the past far behind, speeding blindly towards the future, those traditions have gradually disappeared from the consciousness of every successive vault keeper. Always a lesson to be learned and sacred history to hold close to heart, but optional in their use, and just as the late grandfather who regaled the current lord with tale upon tale and story upon story once did, Raihan has chosen to forgo a majority of the strict formalities associated with his title. His path is his own to cut, he proclaims, and while his respect for those long-forgotten traditions is unmatched, he does not deem them necessary at this point in time.

His chosen stalwart trio readily agree.

Except on _one_ particular matter.

Present times don’t really call for the ceremonial froufrou of the olden days, but Lulu, Dee, and Flo have found the practice of weekly discussions immensely helpful over the years. A time to debate formal manners, in a formal setting, whilst behaving formally, because Flo thinks it’s cool and Dee likes chatting, even if it’s about serious issues regarding their roles or the city or Raihan. For Lulu, it’s about being aware of everything that’s going on and dealing with problems as they arise, ensuring they do not bloat into far more complicated ones.

With the addition of their relatively new housemates, these gatherings have taken on a more nuanced perspective, due in part to Galahad, who’s sharp insight and knowledge on seemingly esoteric topics is second to none.

After his inclusion, the others shortly followed suit, Mordred outraged at not having been extended an invitation earlier, while Arthur’s interest mostly lay in staving off the boredom of an uneventful afternoon.

The only problem is, despite the inclusion of more individuals with their own perspectives and approaches to dealing with roadblocks, what was once an attempt at solving problems with more efficacy has devolved into quite the opposite.

 _In short_ —

“You’re pathetic and so is your fucking flamethrower, you disgusting _wretch_.”

“At least I can breathe fire. Y’know, like an actual _dragon_. When’s the last time you did anything like that, ya overgrown _farm tool_.”

Mordred roars from across the conference table. Or rather, the living room coffee table. They don’t have very many options for formal locations, given the last time they used one of the castle’s _actual_ conference rooms, it ended in scorch marks on the walls, a shattered window, and three broken chairs.

Needless to say, Raihan was not pleased.

“Do you want me to grind that stupid ass maw of yours into _dust_?” Mordred growls, tail snapping violently. “Because I won’t fucking _hesitate_.”

Dee rests a calming tendril on her neck.

“Dreddy, all he said is he likes spicier treats more.”

“And it’s a _shit_ opinion. Bitter is better.”

“I like the sour ones.” Flo chirps, either completely oblivious or uncaring of the fiery tension erupting opposite him. “Ooo, and the ones with, like, sprinkly sparklies on top? Those are great! How about you, Gala-Gala? What’re your thoughts?”

“Mild.” Galahad states, distracted, unconsciously fiddling with the edges of his cannons. Gwin and Gwen, along with Eltanin and Altais, are tagging along with their humans on an outing, leaving him on edge. “I prefer mild.”

“I like the mild ones too!” Dee replies, bouncing in her seat. “They’re so yummy, especially with milk. They get all mushy and soft and _delicious._ ”

“ _Dee-Dee._ ” Mordred whines. “What are you doing agreeing with him? You’re supposed to agree with _me_.”

“But I don’t like bitter biscuits…”

“We need a tiebreaker!” Flo declares. “Luludon, quick, your opinion!”

“F-Flo—I-I—Th-That won’t break the tie—“

“ _Three seconds_!”

“S-S-S- _Sweet_!” Lulu squeaks, startled by Flo’s abrupt demand. 

“Yay!” Dee cheers. “Mild still wins! Good for us, Gala-Gala.”

“Why’re we even talkin’ about this?” Arthur asks, not bothering to contain his yawn. In all honesty, he only tuned back in during the latter half of the conversation, having dozed off the moment things took a bureaucratic turn. As much as he acknowledges the hard work the Hammerlocke Three place into their duties, or whatever they wanna call it, the intricacies of castle upkeep and management just isn’t anything he’s interested in.

There’s only one reason he sticks around for these things, and since they don’t speak up as much as they should, Arthur figures he may as well take advantage of the extra shuteye.

“I-It’s for Raihan.” Lulu informs him, polite as always. “Wh-When we go to the market. S-So he knows what to have delivered.”

“Just pick what you like.”

“Way to invalidate the rest of our preferences.” Mordred scoffs. “You’re _pathetic_.”

“So you’ve said.” Arthur sneers. “Any other enlightenin’ insight you wanna share about me?”

“ _Fuck you_. I’ve said enough.”

“U-Um, let’s p-please calm down.” Lulu desperately attempts to steer them back on course. “I-I’ll just let him know to see if they have v-variety packs. They usually don’t, b-but maybe they will this time…”

“We’ve gotta hope!” Dee replies cheerfully. “Okie-dokie! Done with that. Now, onto our next order of business—“

“DOUBLES!” Flo blurts out, wings flapping at high speed in his excitement. In another world, it might make for a relaxing experience. Not this one, with how _loud_ the music he makes is. “We heard Raihan and Leo-Leo talking and they said—“

“We’re finally gonna do doubles next week!” Dee squees, gleefully pulling on her horns. “To try it out proper! With weather and _everything_! Can you believe that?“

“DOUBLES!” Flo sings. “We’re gonna pair up and tear everyone to _shreds_!”

“Yay! Tear everyone to shreds! Together! As a _team_.”

“That sounds amazing!” Mordred says, immediately perking up. “Can you imagine us, Dee-Dee? Fighting together? We can’t lose!”

“No way we will!” Dee giggles. “We’re gonna take down anyone who gets in our way! No mercy!”

“Looks like you’re not gonna be shooting me out the sky with your kids this time huh, Gala-Gala?” Flo hides his snickering behind his claws. “Think they’ll forget and come after me anyway?”

“Of course not.” Galahad responds. Not a second later, his eyes narrow. “…actually, I may have to speak with—No, I _will_ need to speak with them. They _will_.”

“Not really reassuring me here, pal.”

“They’ll _shoot you down_ , Flo.” Galahad holds his claws to his chin. “Their aim is superb. They’re _used_ to it. We need to work on that. _Immediately_.”

Flo stares at him.

“That’s—You’re insulting me. That’s an insult.”

Galahad grimaces.

“No. Not at all. You know best. They _will not_ hesitate.”

“…Fair enough. What do you suggest?”

With that, the four stray off into their own conversations about the strategy behind their futures successes together, leaving Arthur to yawn once again and Lulu to glance over at him, his worry an indisputable fact.

“A-Are you not interested?”

“S’not that.” Not really, anyway. While Arthur’s not exactly the _best_ team player, susceptible to tunnel vision and his own admitted stubbornness at the worst of times, he’s not too bad with relinquishing total control when it’s needed. “A lil’ funny s’all.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah.” Arthur spares him a glance. “If it were before, wouldn’t have happened.”

Lulu blinks.

“I…guess so.” He replies after a brief pause. “We’ve only ever been challengers during matches. It’s a little s-strange to think of ourselves as p-partners.”

“Not _that_ strange.” Arthur mutters under his breath, waving Lulu off when he casts an inquiring look his way. “M’not sure how it’ll work out. Mordred’s already a hassle. Add on _your_ lot? Sounds like a pain.”

Lulu observes him curiously.

“It isn’t like you to be this negative.”

“Bein’ realistic.” While it’s easy to get caught up in the excitement of prospective battles against stronger opponents under differing circumstances, Arthur is careful not to get carried away. Just because everyone mostly gets along and Leon is interested, doesn’t mean all will turn out well. It didn’t in Wyndon, not in a way that Leon deserved. There’s always a chance it won’t here either.

Even if it _is_ Hammerlocke.

“…Are you sure it’s not the weather? You’re not still sulking because it’s cloudy, are you?”

“ _No_.” Arthur answers a little too quickly, feeling his temperature rise once he notices Lulu’s mirthful expression.

He’s _teasing._

“Yer a _sneak_.” Arthur growls, prodding him in the side with one of his wings. “Lookin’ for vengeance, are ya?”

“N-Never.” Lulu denies, the lilt to his soft laughter indicating otherwise. He seems so pleased with himself, Arthur can’t help but be charmed. “I-I think for once, _you’re_ the one who’s worrying too much.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yes. You…you’re worried about Leon, aren’t you? You don’t want him to get his hopes up.”

“…He’s not too good at doubles.” Arthur says quietly. “He wants to control everything and he _can’t_. Not with a partner.”

“H-He usually works well with Raihan.”

“An official match is different. They’ll argue.”

“They do that sometimes.”

“It’s _different_.”

“If they argue during a match?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

“How is it—”

“You don’t get it. You don’t get how much it _means_ to him.”

Admittedly, it comes out a lot harsher than Arthur intends. Sharper and more divisive, as if he’s drawing a line between them. The moment it slips out his mouth, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say, that it’ll hurt Lulu, because they’re friends, maybe even more, and Arthur’s never gone out of his way to set any boundaries that limit their involvement in each other’s lives. If there are any, they are of Lulu’s making, not his own.

He’s got an apology on the tip of his tongue, ready to clear up a painful misunderstanding in the making, but this time, Lulu doesn’t give him a chance to spout it out.

“I probably don’t.” He says instead, more thoughtful than offended. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand him as well as you do.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it is. It's fine. There’s nothing wrong with telling the truth.” Lulu stops the backpedaling with his calm, measured tone. “Of course I don’t understand. You two…that’s something you share. Something you always will and something that'll never change. But, you know, they share something special too. Really special. That’s why I think—why I _know_ —everything will be all right. As long as they don’t give up on each other, it’ll be okay.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because _you’re_ the one who told me.” Lulu sounds equal bits exasperated and fond. “N-None of us have to the carry the weight of the world, wasn’t it? And I…I believe you. I always will. Even if they fight, even if _we_ fight, and even if everything doesn’t work out perfectly, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. We’ll figure it out. Together. Because…because we’re a team now.” Uncertainty creeps into his tone. “A-Aren’t we…?”

A team, huh...

Isn’t that a turnabout for the ages.

Years of battling against one another, of never giving an inch to the other side, drawing strength from non-existent reserves and watching the fall, watching the pitch part and crack and tear itself apart from the force of the collapse, only for steely silver to rise again, beaten and bruised, metal scorched and blackened from heat only the wildest of fires can incur.

Years of being on the home team’s side, under the spotlight, under flowery wreaths and ribbons and colored streamers and bright bright lights _wondering_ —

Wondering what a victory would feel like at his side.

“Yeah...” Arthur says, his voice low and hoarse. “We are.”

And how _brilliant_ Lulu looks after he says it, pleased and enthused and shining _bright_ , like he’s always meant to be. Like Arthur always longs to be the reason for.

And now that they're together, for the foreseeable future and beyond, he may as well make a habit of it. Not a job or a task or a _duty_ , but a personal goal, because while he’s never been especially good at pleasing others for the sake of it, because it's prudent and wise and _advisable_ , he’s a _helluva lot_ better at pleasing those he _wants_ to.

Unable to help himself, finding no reason or need to do so, Arthur bunts into Lulu, nuzzling him, snickering when he feels him jolt, hears him squeak in surprise. He’s easy to startle, especially with this kinda stuff, something Arthur’s used for his own nefarious means time and again, earning his embarrassed huffs and adorable stammering in return.

Reminds him of when they’re battling, towards the end, when all is said and done and Arthur has been declared victorious. Always with the slight nod after Raihan props him up from his fall. Sheepish and embarrassed. No eye-contact, _never_ afterwards.

Always so _Lulu._

 _s-sorry_. _n-next time i’ll give you a better fight_ , he’d say. As if nearly ripping the stadium from its very foundations isn’t what Arthur would call a good fight.

A good _battle_.

And Arthur, dazed and incoherent, nearly unconscious from a critical steel beam to the jaw, would always _always_ say—

“Lookin’ forward to it.” He says, happy flames bursting from his maw when Lulu’s eyes grow wide, when he laughs and nuzzles him back.

Caught up in the emotion of the moment, Arthur doesn’t bother holding back his purrs, too delighted by the future that awaits them, too pleased by Lulu’s own hums and gentle reciprocation. Doesn’t notice when everyone around the table stops their chattering to stick their maws where they _don’t_ belong.

“ _Um_ …?”

Arthur abruptly pauses in his affections, scowling, irritated by the interruption.

Dee glances between them. Doesn’t say a word, but offers Arthur her version of what the humans usually call a ‘thumbs up.’

“Wow! You two are really close friends!” Flo proclaims, though his grin is horribly _devious_ , a sure sign they’re going to be teased over this for the next century or so. “I’m kinda jealous. You never nuzzle _me_ like that, Luludon!”

“You wouldn’t have the patience for it.” Galahad jibes, rolling his eyes. “Leave them alone.”

“You’re a fucking menace.” Mordred growls. “How _dare_ _you_? Has he even properly _Danced_ for you, Lulu? I bet he fucking _hasn’t_.”

“D-Danced?” Lulu repeats, his cool metal heating up hotter than it's ever been. "H-He—Th- _That's—_ "

“Hold on a sec, Lu.” Arthur saves him the trouble of formulating a response, addressing Mordred directly. “Hey Dreddy?”

“What?”

“ _Shut the fuck up_.”

With that, Arthur shields them from view with his wings, leaving everyone else to figure out the logistics of whatever the _fuck_ they were going on about earlier, and gets back to pressing their maws together, Lulu’s soft giggles so very musical and enchanting.

And if Leon returns later, finds him closely and comfortably curled up next to his partner—his _Luludon_ —and raises a single inquiring eyebrow, well—

 _He’s_ the one who wanted to come to Hammerlocke now, wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd throw Arthur a bone. I know I left things with him and Lulu a little, teensy bit vague, but I don't think their relationship is so simple that mere words can describe their affection for one another. Just like their trainers 🥰🥰🥰  
>  ~~does this perhaps mean charmander eggs are in their future? maybe some axew and goomy for dreddy and dee? the power of love is not be underestimated not with pokémon~~
> 
> With that, things come to an end! Thanks for following along! I'll definitely add onto this should I get any more ideas for our favorite dracos, but for now, I'll call it complete. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Now, to move ahead with that VicHop sequel ✌️✌️✌️


End file.
